PTB SUniversity 2012
by dreaminginnorweigen
Summary: Assignments
1. PTB SUniversity 2012 preassignment

She knocked twice on the door—just like he had told her to—and waited. The alley behind the shop was dimly lit, and the temperature had dropped dramatically as the sun went down. Bella shivered a little, wishing she'd thought to put leggings on under her skirt; not that she would need them for long.

Minutes passed. Or, maybe not minutes, but the door still had not opened and she was feeling impatient. Goosebumps covered her legs and her kneecaps were shaking. She raised her hand to knock again and the door swung open.

The first thing she noticed was his dark t-shirt. An angry-looking milk carton was marching across his chest in protest with a sign that said: I am the 2%.

"Hey."

"Hey."

They stood in silence. A strong breeze whipped through the alley taking Bella's long, unruly hair with it. The chill of it snuck up under her skirt and her kneecaps wobbled even more violently. "Um, can I come in? I'm freezing."

"Oh... yeah." Edward pushed his back up against the door and ushered her in with a sweep of his arm. Their eyes caught for a millisecond as she squeezed by in the narrow hallway and the shiver in Bella's knees changed character completely. "Go on in. I have a table set up for you."

Inside the shop, Bella grabbed the mass of her windblown hair and pulled the strap of her messenger bag over her head. She took a deep breath; the heady scent of Barbasol was in the air. Looking back over her shoulder, she could clearly see the artful scruff on Edward's face. His hand was torturing the wild, russet-colored hair on the crown of his head but it didn't look like he'd shaved recently. He peaked an eyebrow at her in question and she turned back around letting her bag fall to her side.

"I'll get some towels. You want to get ready?"

"Yeah, okay."

"We'll start with you on your stomach."

"Okay."

She dropped her bag next to the table as he walked away. Moments later she heard the distinct sound of a dryer door popping open and the squeak of the spinning drum as he emptied it of warm towels.

She hurried to push her Converse off and reached for the buttons on her skirt. Her knees quivered again as she heard the dryer door slam shut.

Bella kept her back to the laundry room door. She pulled her button-fly open then slowly pushed the denim off the swell of her hips. The skirt quietly hit the floor and she stepped out of it.

Behind her his footsteps halted.

This was the fifth time. The fifth time she would lay on this table in front of him. Since the very first time, every shift and breath sent tingles over her scalp as she waited to see if _this _was the moment when he'd reach out and touch her with a purpose beyond laying ink to skin. It was ridiculous at first. At that point she had only just met Edward. But his juvenile humor and green eyes had drawn her in immediately. The taut, muscular body he hid behind his ironic t-shirts didn't hurt either. Neither did the brush of his long fingers as he tattooed dark-blue outlines of daisies and blades of grass on the flat of her stomach and the curve of her hip.

She unzipped her hoodie and dropped it to the floor with her skirt.

No sound came from Edward.

Standing there—just in her underwear and her t-shirt, knowing he was watching her and doing nothing to give her more privacy—Bella felt a surge of what she could only call gumption. With her back to him she could only imagine his eyes on her. A flash of warmth spread across her chest and cheeks. She pressed her thighs together, hoping he didn't notice; hoping he did.

Reaching up under the back of her shirt, she unhooked her bra. Nothing felt better than taking that off after a long day. Well, other things felt better, but that release from tortuous elastic, combined with the quiet electricity in the air, felt pretty fucking awesome. A quick Houdini move and she was sliding it out of her sleeve and leaving it in the pile with her skirt and hoodie.

"That gets me every time."

"What?"

Bella turned, pulling her t-shirt down in the front with one hand, smoothing her underwear in the back with the other. _Tanga. Low in the front, high in the back. Tempting_, the saleswoman had assured her.

"The way girls can magic their underwear off like that."

"_Every_ time, huh?"

"Well..."

Edward approached the table and spread a warm towel over the 'pleather' surface. His eyes glided quickly up and down her body as she stood waiting for him. She fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest and stood up straighter instead. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly and he took a second towel, folding it over several times before laying it at the head of the table. He was fighting a second look. She could tell. He rolled a third towel and handed it to her.

"Anything else before we get started?"

"A juicy box? To have on hand?"

"Sure."

The twitch at the corner of his mouth cracked in a full, crooked smile. He left her holding the warm rolled-up towel and turned for the mini fridge in the corner. She caught the end of something mumbled as he walked away:

"...what he said..."

Bella carefully laid down on the table. The warm towels took the chill away and she settled with one arm over the rolled towel and the length of it under her head.

Edward returned with a juice box and put it on the cart next to his stool.

"Your hair."

"Oh..."

Her hand, awkwardly seeking out the long tangle, collided with his. Rather than fighting him for it, though, she dropped hers. He gathered the bulk of her tresses at her neck and fashioned a messy braid that he draped carefully over her shoulder.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

By this time Bella knew her face was red. Not a delicate blush. Not a hint, but a broadcast of the effect he was having on her.

She shifted again, pressing her body against the towels and flexing the muscles at the apex of her thighs. She knew her nipples were hard. She could feel the damp gathering in the crotch of her underwear.

She lifted her hips and inched the hem of her t-shirt up to her breasts. She lifted them more and pushed the delicate mesh of her underwear down.

Oh, yes. She had waxed for this.

Tonight the outlines for the daisies and the blades of grass would be extended over her hip and the top of her thigh; right where her underwear sat. They had to go. When she'd pushed them beyond the reach of her own fingertips, she tried to catch Edward's eye. Any attempt to push them lower on her own would leave her completely exposed and she wasn't quite ready for that. Edward stood, dumbstruck, looking at her ass. She cleared her throat quietly.

"Um... a little help?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sure."

Bella dropped her hips and lifted each of her knees as Edward slid her underwear down the length of her legs. She tried not to think about how wet they might be. Instead she focused on his touch. The path that his fingers had taken down toward her feet burned hot in the opposite direction. A desperate wanting bloomed between her legs. It felt like... a gasp, a shock, like dropping over the crest of a hill in a car that was going too fast. She pressed her face into the towels and pushed her tongue between her molars, biting down as hard as she dared to keep from moaning out loud. Instead she played what that moan should have sounded like over and over in her head.

She heard Edward shifting things around on his cart. The wheels of his stool squeaked as he tried to get comfortable. She was anything but comfortable.

Something crashed to the floor and she startled. Pushing up on her arm to see what had happened she found Edward sitting on the stool, his head hanging down.

"Bella?"

"Edward? Are you okay?"

She took quick stock of him. No blood. He didn't seem injured. He didn't look sick. He looked... like he was holding her crumpled underwear in his hand.

"Edward?"

The word left her lips low and slow as he raised his eyes to meet hers. On the outside, everything was slow. But inside, she felt every frenetic pulse of blood in every vein. Every breath that beat in time with her racing heart.

"This is how you feel about me? This is what I do to you?"

He held up her underwear, still grasped tightly in his hand. Bella could only bear the intensity of his gaze for a few moments. Seconds. She closed her eyes, pushing the last bit of air in her lungs out of her nose. Her closed mouth and chin quivered minutely as she nodded.

"I didn't know... I thought maybe...but, this?"

He stood, the delicate panties held out toward her. Bella buried her face in the towel again. The blush was back, but it burned in embarrassment. He didn't want her, when she so clearly wanted him. And he knew it. Her lust was only matched by her mortification.

She pressed her thighs together again hoping to suppress the desire that she felt, at the same time plotting how quickly she could get up and out of the shop. Only... he was holding her underwear. Her wet, sexy underwear that she had bought especially for him, hoping to gain his attention. Well, she had succeeded. Only, not at all like she wanted to. Just as she was about to keen in frustration, she felt Edward's hand come to rest on her hip.

Everything came to a stop. Her pulse. Her breath. Her mind.

He glided his hand slowly down to the crease of her ass and then up. He'd had his hands on her before, but this felt so different.

"Bella?"

"Hhhh..."

She managed only the slightest of sounds as he ran his hand over her. He crossed over her lower back and then back down over her ass, curving the tips of his fingers briefly between her cheeks. Her arousal had spread, slick between her thighs and when his hand reached her there he paused; she knew he could feel it. Knowing that sent a fresh wave of moisture rushing from her and she clenched her muscles seeking relief, and satisfaction.

"Bella? Do you want me to touch you?"

"You already are."

She couldn't help the humor in her tone as she peeked back at him. He answered her snark with a derisive grin and the tension that had been building between them eased.

"I think we both know what's happening here. I just want to be sure... do you want me to?"

"Yes... yes."

And like that the intensity was back.

Despite her state, Bella was still able to manage recalling all the fantasies she'd had about Edward. The fantasies about how this might happen. This moment where everything would change between them. She'd listened to him talk while he tattooed her, watching his mouth in utter fascination. She'd thought about running her tongue along the stubble over his top lip; nibbling at the edges until he opened his mouth to let her in. She'd imagined him pushing the whole of his flat hand against her ass as he pulled her tightly against his chest; pressing up against him as he ran his hand up, inside of her shirt, grazing her breast. Grabbing her. Pinching her.

These were the thoughts racing through her head when his fingers found her.

She'd imagined lots of things. But this was not one of them.

"Why didn't you tell me, Bella?"

He was whispering in her ear, licking lightly at the shell of it. His hand pushed her legs apart and his fingers cupped around her sex. He started to rub and Bella gasped in response. Where was that goofy, immature guy now?

"This... is me telling you."

Her words were wedged between whimpers.

"I'm all ears."

The only answer was a muffled moan from the rolled-up towel.

Edward's pace was just past the point of exactly right and Bella found herself flexing her hips and grinding into his hand. He quickly took the hint and she went from feeling really good, to well on her way to an orgasm surprisingly fast. She felt it building: a quiver, deep inside. Grabbing at the edge of table, she tensed and pulled, unconsciously inching away from Edward's hand. She wanted it so bad, but at the same time it felt like too much. Like she might lose it entirely.

"Ah, ah, ah..."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm coming... I'm going to... oh, shit..."

Edward's hand came down on the small of her back and wrapped around her hip. He pulled her back. Back to his fingers, and back to the edge of delirium.

"Yes, you are. And I can't wait to see it."

With those throaty, whispered words she let go. A hot, shuddering rush flooded through her and she found herself grunting, quaking, thrusting erratically against his fingers.

"Shitshitshitshitshit... Edward. Ahhh, shhh-it..."

For a moment, even her own words were muffled to her. Everything felt far away. The only things she knew were her gasps, the rhythm of the blood in her ears and the feeling of Edward's fingers as he caressed her trembling sex.

When she could hear everything clearly again she recognized that his rough intake of breath matched her own. He pulled his hand from between her legs and brought it to rest on her thigh.

She met his green eyes over the curve of his shoulder. He didn't look sheepish, like she felt. He looked proud and curious. Edward dragged a finger behind her ear and pressed a gentle kiss on the apple of her cheek.

"Hey."

"Hey."


	2. Assignment 1 New Position

**Project Team Beta Smut University 2012**  
Ficology: The Human/Vampire Reproductive System  
By SaintsMistress  
**Assignment #1: Write a lemon using a Karma Sutra position you've never come across in a fic before**

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight

The position I used can be found at (remove spaces, replace the slash with a slash dot with dot):  
bitdotly slash bOIjXB

Thank you **twilight_moirae** for enabling me! Co-dependence will get us through.

* * *

**The Fifth Time**

_At this rate we'll never finish my tattoo._

This is what Bella thinks to herself as Edward eases her over the rumbling washing machine and pushes into her from behind.

They've met at the shop, after-hours, four times since that first night. Not once have they managed to make progress on the daisies and blades of grass that wind their way up her body. He spends plenty of time surveying his work—the dark blue ink he's already put to her skin. But her tattoo is only ever its intended vibrant riot of color between _sessions_, when she dreams about his hands and what they do to her.

"Hhhhhh..." Edward slowly pushes this sound out of her with a gentle force, and with it any thought of her tattoo.

With a hiss, she sucks air through her teeth and he stills, maintaining the sublime pressure she can feel, deep inside. The pressure is intense—heavy. She tries to center herself with an intake of breath, but it only increases the tension—tension that verges on pain, but the very best kind. She tries again to breath, but moans instead.

Edward gently brushes the strands of hair that have fallen from her braid away from her face. He's pushed no further, but hasn't pulled back yet either. Bella's breath is still shallow.

"Ok?"

"Yessss..." she hisses in answer. The churn of the washing machine gives her voice a strange whirring quality. Like when she was a kid, talking into the blades of an oscillating fan. She opens her mouth and lets the air leave her chest in a hum. The pressure eases.

"Luuuuke, I am your father..." Edward chuckles.

_Yes_, she thinks, giggling lightly at the weird intersection of their unspoken thoughts. _I was just thinking that._

Their laughter does strange things to her insides and she shifts, seeking... something. Something to make this feeling that she's on the verge of more complete. "It's different. It feels different," she says, bringing them both back into the moment—to what they're doing.

"It is deeper this way." Edward caresses her neck and curls the stray hair behind her ear. He leans forward, incrementally, pushing her into the edge of the washing machine.

"Ahhhhhh..." she sighs. There's that something. She turns her head and looks back at him over her shoulder. His hair is a perfect mess and his eyes, dark and verdant, are intent on her.

Her eyes sweep over delicately sketched black, white and red roses. Their thorny stems braid up his arm and over his shoulder to the face tattooed over his heart: a woman with closed eyes and a profile like his. This face is at the root of a list of questions she enters the shop with every time they meet—a list of questions that dissolved the moment Edward puts his hands on her. She's started to wonder if it is on purpose.

He trails a hand down her neck and traces over the bones of her spine. Slowly, slowly, on cue, any thought of the roses and face abate. With her head still turned, but eyes closed, Bella can feel her flesh rise in answer to Edward's touch. Chill bumps erupt outward from his fingers. When his hand reaches the swell of her ass, he curls his fingers downward toward her hip, anchoring them at the curve of bone, just under the flesh.

Bella's toes skim the floor. She is more in his hands than he realizes.

"I'll go slow," he says, over the rush of water draining from the machine. He leans in and places a kiss at the corner of her shoulder blade. Her head drops and her braid slips over her shoulder, tickling the tops of her breasts. She reaches forward and wraps one hand over the back of the washing machine. She's never been in this position before but it seems like she should brace herself.

Edward runs the tip of his tongue along the edge of her shoulder blade, nipping lightly at her skin. When he stands again she feels cool air wash over her ass as he pulls back and away.

It is torture, his slow withdraw. She can anticipate the emptiness, if he goes too far. She clenches around him seeking to slow it, to end it, to keep him inside her.

"Fuck," he groans. "Bella, relax. Keep squeezing me like that and I won't last."

She moans in return, looking back over her shoulder again. _Relax_, he mouths. His lids are heavy, hiding his green eyes. His chin is pushed forward slightly in concentration. How she wishes she could reach that chin, she could claim that mouth. She is imagining a contortionists ability to twist in such a way, when Edward pushes back in.

"Good, god," she says, collapsing forward a little. Again he presses her into the edge of the machine and the vibration of the washer sends a shock through her. "Ooooo..." she says, tightly.

"Breath through it," Edward warns, as he pulls back again, gripping her hips. "Don't hold your breath."

Bella's feet are fully off the floor. As Edward thrusts again, her thighs bounce lightly off the front of the washer. She bends her knees, caressing his inner thigh with her toes and it seems to drive him on. The incoherent strings of words escaping her mouth are interwoven with the expletives falling from his.

"Shit," she whispers, reaching back and hooking her fingers around his wrist. "Shhh- it." She rests her head on her other forearm. _Breathe_, she thinks in time with his thrusts. _Brea... Br..._

The pull deep inside is in sharp contrast to the pulse she feels as he pins her against the washing machine with each stroke. Water draining from the machine slows to a trickle and a loud click signals the spin cycle. The handful of towels Edward pulled from the washer when they entered the room suddenly makes sense.

"Isn't the point to wash them?" she had asked, breathlessly, as he divided his attention between her mouth, her breasts and the laundry he was dropping to the floor. He had just chuckled in answer. Now she knows, watching the 'Uneven Load' light flash frantically on the washer's control panel, just what he was up to.

A tremble is building in Bella's thighs and spreading quickly—to her arms, her lungs, low in her belly. "Edward..." she cries, pulling on the back of the washing machine. The noises that Edward's thrusts are forcing out of her are lost in the turbulent slaps of wet towels in the washer. The small room is filled with a percussive symphony.

Despite her grip on him and the back of the machine, Bella has no leverage. The orgasm she can feel building is disembodied, just outside of her. It's looming—huge—but the idea of holding on to see it through seems impossible.

Understanding dawns on her like the light blinking inches away from her face. She is holding on. She looks over her shoulder again to Edward's straining, beautiful, lopsided grin. "Breathe," he pants.

She laughs, letting go. "Use for the Force, Luuuuke..." The words thrum from her chest as her orgasm crests. It's a full-body experience; the jolts of pleasure rippling out from between her legs are wedged between the spasmodic rhythm of the washer and the impact of Edward's hips.

"May... the... Force... bewithyou," Edward grunts as he comes, laughing with her. The erratic jerk of his hips slows and he pulls himself tightly against her, bending down and pressing his chest to her back.

"The Force is strong in this one," Bella whispers as Edward lays soft kisses over her shoulder and neck.

"The Force is strong," he whispers back.


	3. Assignment 2 Someone's Got a Secret

**Project Team Beta Smut University 2012**  
Ficology: The Non (Completely) Gratuitous Lemon  
By LyricalKris

**Assignment #2: **One of your couple is hiding something. The guilt is eating them alive. It leaks into everything, bleeds into what should be a moment of passion, of love. They try to lose themselves in the moment, the pleasure, but they can't.

Extra credit: Write your lemon without the use of graphic words: cock, penis, vagina, hole, pussy, insert, etc. Try to write the act with emotion rather than play by play description.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight

* * *

**Acquiescence**

These lines ... These lines I've laid down on her skin. They feel beyond me. I mean, I remember doing this work. But, now … as I run my hand over her, as she arches up into my grasp, they are something else. They float above the surface.

They took on their own life when they became a part of her. I did that. Right? I'm asking myself, not telling. I'm reminding myself that this is my work, because now it is so much more than me and my iron. More than just ink.

It is Bella.

"Edward?"

She's running her hand over my tattoo again—trailing fingers over the roses and Elizabeth's closed eyes. Bella is looking at me with the questions in hers. I know she wants to ask—to know more. She has for a while. But, it's so much easier to make her feel good. To make both of us feel good. Telling her about my mother won't get us to that.

"Fuck, you're beautiful … you're a perfect canvas. Your skin …" I run my nose over the crease under her breast. Down her torso. Over her hip. My tongue snakes a taste. I can smell the daisies and the grass of her tattoo. Even though it's just outlines, even though I haven't managed to put any color down, she brings this dark blue ink to life.

She smells like outside and summer.

There's that hum. My teeth on her hip and my fingers curling into the top of her underwear earn me that. She arches again with her head pushed back. Her eyes are closed. "Mmmmm … Edward." It's not a question anymore; it's a sigh. I have won—for now.

It is only a matter of time before the questions return to her eyes. If not now, sometime soon. It won't be long before my hands on her body won't be enough to keep us from _a talk_. With every other girl that first question was the beginning of the end. As in, never again. Only once did I make the mistake of unloading my sad family history. Victoria's features settled into a nauseating mask of pity as the words tumbled out of my mouth. It was a look that made me hate myself. It made me hate my dad for the events that his death set in motion. That feeling alone was enough to keep me from telling anyone again.

This moment is coming with Bella. I can feel it. It might even be tonight. Until then, though, I will fight. And I will fight dirty.

On cue, she's watching me again, and she's fighting it, too. Half her lip is between her teeth and her eyes are darting back and forth between my eyes and my tattoo. Before her it was easy. Sex was impersonal and as long as I kept women coming, they rarely wanted to know more than when their next orgasm was coming. But, Bella … Bella, Bella, Bella.

I challenge her curiosity with a raised eyebrow and her favorite grin. My hands run roughly up her body and she sucks in a skittering breath. Her nipples slide neatly between the knuckles of my thumbs and forefingers; her smallish breasts are a perfect handful. She bucks up into my hold again and I reward her with dual pinches; she rewards me with instantly firm, unyielding flesh and a moan that sends even more blood rushing to my dick.

Our bodies are perfectly matched. I read her like an instruction manual and she lets me. When I forget a step, she's there to show me where I went wrong. And, unlike with any other woman I've been with before, I am listening for those clues.

I don't want this to end.

I've never felt that before.

That alone is unsettling.

With one last, lingering tweak of her breasts, I drag my hands lightly down to her waist. She squirms like I want her to. I mean to tickle, just enough—enough to wipe the questions from her mind for a little while more, but not so much that we're pulled out of this moment. She likes my humor. She likes to match it. With her, I don't wear my jokes like ill-fitting clothes. I am funny because I want to see her laugh. I am funny because she makes me feel light.

But this is not funny. Not tonight.

This might be my last chance.

"Oh!" She squeaks, her eyebrows lifting in surprise as I scoop my hands under her ass and pull her to the edge of the table with a jerk.

Again, I give her the smile, stepping between her knees. "You'll give me this tonight," I say, pulling her hips upward and dipping to press my mouth and nose against her sex. I take a deep breath, mouthing at the striped cotton of her underwear. It's a heady scent. Musky and clean. She smells … freshly showered. I chuckle, pressing the flat of my tongue against her through the thin cotton. She responds with a strangled whimper as she tries to wriggle out of my grip. I laugh again, nipping at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and she throws her hands over her face.

At some point we'll get back to the original purpose of these evening rendezvous. Eventually, I hope to fill these lines with white, yellow and green inks. But for now, I happily accept that she's turned up waxed, washed and ready for me.

My bare foot reaches for my stool and I roll it behind me. I lower her back to the table and take my seat. Bella lifts herself to her elbows and her face scrunches in concern. "Edward, I … I don't really like … that." A blush paints her body—from her cheeks all the way to the tops of her thighs. She tries to bring her legs together but only succeeds in making me harder as her knees press into my ribs.

I peel the edge of her underwear down and edge them out from under her. Rolling backwards on my stool and taking them on a journey down her long legs, I say, "You'll let me try to get you to like it. If you still don't, we can talk about you letting me try again. But you're going to let me try."

Bella's blush is awash in goose bumps. "Gah, Edward," she huffs. Falling back to the table, she flings one arm over her eyes and a hand over her crotch. "It makes me …" I roll back between her legs. Lifting her knee to my mouth I kiss her thigh. She tenses as my kisses move higher.

"It makes you what?"

"Nervous …" she pants.

We've entered a safe zone. She's now completely focused on whether she can relax enough to let me to go down on her, and I can relax without her eyes on me. When it's like this, the sex is fucktastic.

I won't deny the part of me that wonders what it would be like if there were no secrets. Could it be even better? But, no. The risk feels too great. The threat of the pity that will surely subvert the easy laughter and desire that I seek out in her eyes—that threat has kept me locked down tight.

"Leave your arm over your eyes," I suggest. "Don't watch me." She nods, but the shaky breath she takes in through her nose and releases out of her mouth betrays her. She really is nervous.

"Edward … I …"

"Hey ..." I say, standing. "Come here." I pull her wrist and she sits up, wrapping her arms around me. "I want this. I want to do this. I think I can make you feel good."

Edward Masen does not _think _he can make women feel good. He knows.

Usually.

"Will you let me?"

Bella's coffee-colored eyes search mine, and I'm begging her to let me try.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to just dive in down there. There is a warm up." I smirk, and that gets me a smile and relaxed shoulders.

"Warm me up then," she murmurs. And with her hands tangled in my hair, I fix my mouth to hers.

Bella is usually a full participant when we kiss. Her tongue will explore my mouth with the lightest of touches—inside and out. There is no hesitation, only keen observance. She takes in everything that I react to and responds in kind. It is the best kind of kissing. She never tries to dominate.

Tonight, though, she lets me kiss her completely. She lets me take the lead. I am in total control and it's as if she wants me to know that. She's given herself over to me.

I take her mouth, deeply, and I feel the whisper of a moan that escapes her chest and the increased pace of her breath in my groin. Pressing my forehead to hers, I pause. The depth to which I want her is too much. So, so much. To the point that I might cream my pants like a teenager if I'm not careful.

I turn my attention to the apple of her cheek, her hairline over her ear, the soft curve of her jaw. She lets me worship her. She's no ragdoll, but just as I thought, this is an act of full trust.

She trusts me.

I want to trust her.

My tongue and teeth work their way down her body and I lower her back onto the table. As I go to sit again she laces her fingers with mine and squeezes my hand. I lean forward lick the tips of her fingers, kissing them gently. I will make this good for her.

Bella drapes her arm over her eyes with a huge sigh and I release her hand.

I start slow. All this talk and worry hasn't left her ready, at all. Grazing my fingers along sensitive flesh, I blow gently and she shudders a little.

I've never been so thoughtful about doing this before and it's making _me _nervous. I am never nervous when it comes to sex. Years of avoiding emotional entanglements has made me very good at it. When there are no feelings to worry about it's pretty easy to be mechanically perfect.

But shit, are there feelings involved?

Without really thinking about it, I reach for my belt buckle. "Bella ..." I stand and push my jeans down. She lifts her arm and looks at me flummoxed, as I step out of my pants. "We'll come back to this," I say. "Right now ... I want you."

She looks stunned and it cuts me to the core. I lift her leg and kiss her knee again before wrapping it behind me. This is the first time we'll do this eye-to-eye, and it shouldn't be.

When I press my fingers up against her to continue my _warm up_, I can feel what my change in plans has done to her. She is slick already. With my thumb, I spread her arousal and when I curl over her, I look her straight in the eyes as I push inside.

This is how it should be.

What it ends up being is intense and really awkward. I didn't think it through when I decided on my last minute about-face. But it doesn't matter, because all I can think of is how good it feels to be moving inside her. How her eyes are the exact shade of my first cup of morning coffee. How looking into them as we're together like this gives me that same perfect jolt.

All of my practiced moves are of no use to me as I come quickly and without much warning. There was certainly no time to bring her to climax.

At least I didn't cream my pants.

"I'm sorry," I gasp, dropping my forehead to her cheek. "I'm sorry."

"No. No." She is kissing me—all over my face. And when she finds my mouth, my top lip fits perfectly between her lips—between her teeth. She bites down, just hard enough that my eyes snap open, and she meets my gaze with a demand.

She knows what I've been doing.

She is no fool.

"Let me make you dinner."

I blink at her. Our first time out of the shop? Our first time together that isn't centered around tattooing or sex?

"We can drink wine and learn what each others' favorite foods are and about our first kisses."

That gets her a smile and relaxed shoulders.

"We can work up to secrets, when you want …"


	4. Assignment 3 Split Personality

**Project Team Beta Smut University 2012**  
Writing a Virgin Scene  
By Opal Aline

**Assignment #1: Write a scene featuring two virgins – any pairing is fine, so long as both are virgins.**

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight

Again, thank you, Beebs!

Some of you might experience a flashback to Life Science class or Biology I. Mitosis is the process by which a eukaryotic cell separates the chromosomes in its cell nucleus into two identical sets, in two separate nuclei. It is generally followed immediately by cytokinesis, which divides the nuclei, cytoplasm, organelles and cell membrane into two cells containing roughly equal shares of these cellular components.

Yes. I just included that in the A/N of my SmutU assignment. Education for everyone!

* * *

**Observing Mitosis**

Assumptions were made.

They always are.

In this case he has done nothing to clarify things. In fact, since he is truthful with only himself, he has spent most of his summer creating the illusion that this girl is reacting to-that she is throwing herself at.

And considering that she's just whispered, "You should know, I'm a virgin," in his ear as they stumbled into his dorm room, she has most definitely assumed.

Tanya. Her shorts are impossibly short. Her boobs, impossibly big. Her shirt, impossibly small. Her hair, impossibly blonde.

And just four months ago, she would have been an impossibility for Eddie Masen.

But, in this moment, he is Edward. He has been for the last three weeks-ever since shaking his new roommate Peter's hand-and Tanya wants _Edward _Masen to be her first.

The futon is low and soft. He rubs his hand slowly over the bulge in his shorts, adjusting himself, as Tanya stands above him shimmying her shorts down her thighs. She seems to be in a hurry and he trying to imagine if he were her-a girl-if he would want this to go as quickly as she seems to.

He still can't quite decide for himself.

She's dropped to her knees between his and is making quick work of the button and zipper of his cargo shorts. "My roommate told me what to do." Her voice is quivering slightly and Edward, too, is trying to remain calm. "I hope I'm good for you, Edward."

He reaches up to her face and in a tender gesture pushes her hair behind her ear. He wants her to relax as much as he needs to. He wants this to be good for both of them. But before he can say anything, her hand is in his boxers and in the next moment, she's pushing her cherry-colored lips over him.

"Fuuuuhhh-ck, Tanya."

It's like he's losing moments of time. How long have they even been in here? He looks to the clock. Did they lock the door? He looks to the door.

He looks to her face again and he thinks she might be smiling around his dick.

She slides up and down in hot, frenzied movements and he presses his head back into the futon cushion. He hears her gag intermittently, but tries to clear his mind. Above him, pinned to the underside of his loft bed, is his poster of unicellular organisms.

_Amoeba. _

_Paramecium. _

_Euglena. _

_Chloroplast, nucleus, stigma, flagellum..._

"Stop. Stop. Tanya, stop." He gasps, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her up. Her mouth leaves his dick with a pop.

"Was it good, Edward?" She's panting and her cheeks are red. Her lip gloss is smeared to the corner of her mouth and he nods as he uses his thumb to wipe it away. He thinks they'll maybe sit here for a moment to catch both their breaths-that he can slow this down and take his time. Maybe they'll kiss a little. But she's up again and this time it's her underwear she's shimmying down.

"Tanya …" he says. Again they've skipped ahead and the foil packet is already hanging from her teeth.

She pulls her tight shirt off in one swift movement and with flick of her fingers her breasts spring free from her bra. They drift from side-to-side like huge, heavy pendulums keeping time with the pulse of blood between his legs.

He takes a deep breath and she smiles back at him proudly. Proud that her virgin breasts seem to impress him so much. Him, _Edward _Masen.

"Have you ever been with a virgin before, Edward." For a split second she looks as she should. Nervous and unsure.

He gathers himself. "No," he says. "You're my first." He has enough presence of mind to say this like Edward. Not Eddie. Because, really, he's not this man he's created, the one who's first campus conquest Tanya so emphatically covets. He is not this guy, with the hair and carefully choreographed saunter. Inside, he's all Eddie.

"I'm your first virgin?" She asks it like she's won. Like she's keeping a tally and this was the big prize.

What would she do if she knew that he was hers, too?

She bends over and pulls at his shorts and boxers, pushing them down to his ankles. Her breasts sway and sway, and he reaches forward to cup one in his hand.

_Amoeba, Archaea, Bacteria …_

"Katie said it would be easier if I'm on top." He nods absently as she straddles him. Her blond pubic hair flashes in his eyes like a bright, white beacon and he feels her press up against him-wet and warm. He looks up to study the poster again.

_Coccidia, Cystoflagellata, Difflugia..._

His shoes are still on.

That doesn't seem right.

He quickly pushes them off and kicks them away. His shorts and boxers soon follow.

Tanya is pulsing over him, rubbing up against his dick. She has her breasts in her hands and she's squeezing them, pushing them together. "Lick me," she pants, pushing her hands into her hair, pressing her breasts toward his face. He barely has his mouth on her nipple before she gasps, "touch me," and pulls his hand between her legs.

When he presses a finger into her it is a surprise. He has seen anatomical cross sections of the female anatomy, but somehow he still didn't expect the shape or the textures he's feeling. Apparently, all he had expected was the heat and the wet, and that alone is enough to keep him centered. This is not completely alien-not completely outside of his prediction.

"More," she says grasping his wrist as she's riding his hand. Edward realizes now that, virgin or not, Tanya is far more experienced than him. He adds a second finger, breathing heavily through his nose. It's a tight fit but with every stroke he can feel her relax.

_ Filosa, Foraminifera, Gregarines, Haemosporidia ..._

"Oh, Edward," Tanya puffs, directing his wrist. "Oh." Her head is thrown back in ecstasy. Her hands are digging into his shoulders.

"I want... I want to come with you inside … Katie said I couldn't, but I want to … I want to try."

The look of determination on Tanya's face is enough to make him feel like blowing his wad is a little less imminent. This is a competition. Or a race. Against whom, he's not sure. Katie maybe? The other freshman girls? She is staking a claim and he is it. When she pushes his hand away and grabs his dick he feels himself flag a bit.

"This is so good, Edward … I'm so glad it was you."

She grasps him firmly and swirls herself over his head. He's sure she thinks it's tantalizing-the way her eyes burn into him. But if she were to ask, he would have to work hard to lie. She pumps him viciously and leans over to bite at his neck.

In this moment, he wants nothing more than for it to be over. For Tanya to be gone and to be in the shower washing everything away. But as he watches the fire climb in her eyes he knows that if he fails her, Edward Masen will be a fable. A moral lesson. A cautionary tale. This could be the story that will be told behind his back for the next four years. He will be Eddie all over again and the prospect makes him feel desperate.

With new resolve, he wraps his fingers over hers and together they bring him back to full mast.

"Put your hands on the futon." Edward commands and with parted lips and half-closed eyes she complies.

He takes the foil packet from the cushion and rips it open. Trying to look practiced, he calls Coach Clapp's Health Class lecture to mind. _Pinch the tip and roll downward, boys ..._

_Heliozoa, Infusosia, Malaria ..._

With a hand on his dick and the other wrapped around her ribs, a thumb grazing over curve of her breast, he guides the head of his penis slowly, slowly into her. "You do it now, Tanya. As slow as you need to."

_Mastigophora, Mycetozoa ..._

He remembers the jocks in gym class relating their exploits to one another. _She was sooooo tight, dude ..._ And now he knows what they were talking about. It is so fucking tight. Tighter than his hand has ever been. And, every time he thinks it's too tight, that it won't be possible to go any further, Tanya pushes downward again, until they are flush against one another.

Until she has totally consumed him.

_ Myonemes, Protista, Protozoa, Pylome …_

He takes a breath. And another.

And another.

Even Tanya seems to have forgotten her quest.

"Are you okay," he huffs.

"Mmmmhmmm …" Her lip is between her teeth and she sucking in quick, shallow breaths. "It doesn't hurt. I just feel … really … really full."

Edward looks for the poster again.

_ Radiolaria, Rhizopoda, Sarcodina, Sporozoa..._

"This is all you. Your pace," he pants. "To be honest, I don't know how long I'm going to last … It feels … too … too good." It sounds casual, even to his own ears. Like this is old hat and she's just unexpectedly fantastic. But inside he's frantic. It does feel too good. And if something doesn't happen soon, something … something … he's going to come, and hard.

Tanya lifts up slowly and pushes down again.

_Interphase …_

When they come together again, he can't help but buck into her a little. "Oh …"

_Prophase …_

"Yes." Thrust. "Yessss ..."

_Metaphase …_

"Mmmmm …" Thrust.

_Anaphase …_

Thrust.

_Telophase …_

Thrust. "Oh, God. Tanya! Fuck!"

_Cytokineeeeeesesssss ..._


	5. Assignment 1 Cornflakes

**Project Team Beta Smut University 2012**  
Spanking the Monkey  
By BellaFlan

**Assignment #4: Write any kind of masturbation scene, as long as it's outside of your comfort zone. Remember to describe what your character is thinking and feeling (using as few adverbs as possible). There should be at least one reference to Cornflakes.  
**

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight

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So, folks ... I'm opting out this week. RL is nuts and I have been trying to finish my latest chapter for my WIP for WAY too long. All this smut is sort of messing with my Marked Indelibly writing vibe. I might come back to this assignment at some point, or incorporate some spank into the next one, but for now I will leave you with a little haiku in the theme of the week:

Cornflakes (random title reference)

Listen, he said ... they're  
different, left and right strokes;  
and then he showed her.


	6. Assignment 6 Present Tents

**Project Team Beta Smut University 2012**  
Dirty Talk  
By IReenH

**Assignment #6: Write a phone sex scene.**

**Because there is no seeing, no touching of each other. No scents, no scenery, no physical anything, except for speech and self-gratification. You can't cover the basic nature of sexual communication in clichés and cover-ups. It's a sensory deprivation chamber where the only thing you have is talk and emotion. It may be the hardest sex to write, because there is forced realism. No hiding.**

**You can write your phone-sex scene in whatever fashion you like. It can be squicky or silly or sexy. Just let your words and your characters set the mood. It can be purple or utilitarian, or poetic. Write what you are comfortable writing.**

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight

* * *

What was that?

I can hear low murmurs and some giggling.

Stupid Mike.

"Fuck you, Mike," I yell. "Fuck you and your stupid bear story!"

More giggles and then he answers me, "Get over it Bella. A bear is not going to walk through our camp. Stop getting your panties in a bunch."

And more fucking giggles. Fucking Jessica.

Fucking Edward.

And that noise again. Am I even hearing it? Or am I listening so hard that I'm hearing noise from within myself. I stop breathing for a moment and strain to discern between the crickets, the slight breeze in the leaves and my racing heart. Was that a snapping twig?

I burrow down into my new double sleeping bag (bought especially for this weekend), imagining how much cosier my little two-man tent would be if Edward were here. With my head on his chest and my skin pressed up against his, I wouldn't be thinking about a bear ripping my tent to shreds. I'd be worried if I could stay quiet enough when he made me come. I push further down into the bag and hum lowly. My voice is deadened by the nylon and the fiberfill and I breathe a little easier when the sounds of the forest fade.

The false calm is shattered by the buzzing against my stomach. "Shit!" I hiss, scrambling to get my phone out of my pocket.

"Hello!" I don't really mean to snap. Not on purpose. But I feel taut—like a rubber band—ready to come apart or shoot across our campsite and back to my car.

"Hey, it's me." He sounds unsure, as if I might not really know that it's him calling.

"Hey." I know I don't sound happy to hear his voice. But the word fires out of me before I have time to think about it. I take a deep breath, inhaling the earthy, smoky smells from my clothes. "Hey," I say again, trying for pleased.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm alone in my tent … listening to Newton and Jessica go at it … waiting for a bear to come eat me." I never call Mike, Newton. Only Edward does. But somehow trying to sound harsh and angry abates my anxiety—a little.

Edward's low, chuckling response is at once soothing and arousing.

"What? It's not funny." I scrunch up a little more, squeezing my legs together. God, what he does to me. Even when I'm laying here terrified. "I'm not supposed to be alone in this tent. You're supposed to be here."

"Would my being there keep a bear from tearing it to shreds?"

"No." I smile. "But I'd die happy."

His rush of breath reaches me through the phone, down the back of my neck. "Oh, you would." It's a statement of fact:You would die happy. He would make sure of it.

"Guh! Edward. I want you here. Why aren't you here?"

"You know I want to be."

Silence dominates for a moment. I push back the sleeping bag and take in a breath of cool air. I can hear a rhythmic babble is coming from Mike and Jessica's tent and I groan.

"So, annoying."

"What?"

"I can hear them."

"Who?"

"I can hear Mike and Jessica," I hiss.

"Oh, yeah? What are they doing?"

"Well, I can't say for sure, but they're clearly enjoying themselves." And then, as if to emphasize my statement, a grunting _Fuuu-ck, Jess … _and a keening _Michael... _waft through the air to my tent. "What I do know is, if you were here, I wouldn't be listening to them."

"Oh no? What would you be doing?" I can hear his smile—its crookedness. It's _that _smile, and I can feel it right between my legs.

"I would be focused ... elsewhere." I squirm. Shit. I walked right into this.

"Where, Bella? Where would you be focused?"  
"Ummm …" He's not going to rescue me. I can tell. "On … you. On us." The last words come out in a whisper. I feel ridiculous. Phone sex—it's ridiculous. But at the same time the thought of it is making me breathless … and hot. I feel really hot. I sit up, pushing the sleeping bag further down.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm hot."

"Yeah. But what are you doing?" He's laughing.

"I'm … no, I'm hot. I have too many clothes on in this bag."

"Well take some of them off ... or, all of them." Again, with the smile in his voice. Again, I shift, taking the edge off with a little friction.

It's not like I don't know what he's going to say to me. Somehow, I'm unconsciously setting him up for all of this—or maybe setting myself up. I consider resisting. Playing the game and dragging this out, but truthfully all I want is for him to make me feel good. Just the thought of it has me swirling and clenching inside. God, I wish he was here.

"Okay, fine."

"Really?" He actually sounds shocked, though incredibly pleased. "I thought I was going to have to work a little harder."

"That's what she said." I giggle as I shimmy out of my shorts. My underwear goes with them and automatically I start to pull them back up, but then stop. Who am I kidding? So, I push everything off and kick it to the bottom of the sleeping bag. The sleek nylon slides against my bare skin and the sensation is … titillating. I sigh lightly.

"Are you naked?"

"No. I still have my top and my fleece on."

"Take all of it off."

Again, I hesitate, but only for a second. "Okay." I put my phone down and pull everything else over my head, throwing it across the tent. Every bit of my skin tingles against the night air and the thought of being naked, for him. "Okay," I whisper when I pick the phone back up.

Edward's voice drops low when he says, "Seriously?"

"Yes." I snuggle back down into the bag.

Silence. Nothing but the short in and out of his breath in my ear. Then a snapping and rustling somewhere outside.

"Shit."

"What?" he whispers.

"I heard something."

"Mike and Jess?"

"No … something outside."

"Ignore it. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Mike told a story about a bear."

"It's not a bear."

"How do you know?"

"It's not. There are all kinds of animals in the woods, Bella, but it's not a bear."

"Hmph."

"If I were there would you be listening for a bear?"

I think for a moment. The story had freaked me out. As a kid, Mike had gone camping with his dad and a bear came into their camp and tore into their cooler. Seriously? This is the story he tells as we're cleaning up and about to go to our tents? When I'm going to my tent … alone?

But if Edward were here, he'd have made it all seem ridiculous, and when we got back to the tent he would have made me forget everything—everything except how much I wanted him.

"No," I answer softly. "I'd be thinking … about how good you make me feel. About your mouth … and your hands … and your … cock." I can't help giggling. But not because it's funny—well, maybe a little—but more than that, it's nervous laughter.

"You're not great at this, Bella."

"No," I laugh.

"What do you think phone sex is?"

"I don't know. It's you telling me what you're doing to me. Or me telling you what I'm doing to myself. It's … I don't know." I huff in frustration. It's not this.

"Close your eyes."

"Edward …"

"Just do it. Please?"

"Fine." I close my eyes and settle into the sleeping bag. I stretch out and rest my hand on my stomach. I take a deep breath.

"Imagine what would have happened if I was there." The forest noises surround me and Edward's voice is low and warm in my ear when he says, "When you went back to the tent tonight, I was with you."

"Mmmhmmm..." is all I can manage as a discordant montage of images rushes through my brain. Gentle kisses and caresses. Arching bodies. Laughter. Whispered words and panted pleas.

I slide my hand toward the unfinished ink that arcs up my torso. In my mind, my own soft touch easily becomes his more insistent. From hip to breast, the slow course of fingers shoots irregular pulses of heat to my stomach—and lower.

"Edward …" I mumble as I roll to my side. I can feel my arousal slick between my thighs as they scissor apart. Memories of how he has touched me with his hands, his mouth, even his nose project themselves into the present tense—into the tent.

"Your body fits mine … you make it so easy for me to make you feel good."

"Yes."

"When I'm near you, it's all I can think about …" His voice is hushed and breathless. "I wanna make you come."

"Hhhhhh …" is all I can manage as the touch brushes over my ribs, my stomach and downward. I clench again and am rewarded with a thrumming pulse between my legs.

"Can I make you come, Bella?"

"Please …"

Then he takes me there with his words. He knows exactly that to say; he's made it happen so many times.

My hands are his.

My teeth on my lips are his.

"What am I doing to you, Bella?"

"You, you … oh … I'm there … oh, oh … God."

My stuttering breath, hot on my skin, deep in the sleeping bag, is his.

Somewhere outside I can hear a rustling—a crackling, too. The bear? Some other animal?

"Shit." I push the edge of the sleeping bag down. The mixture of fear and release is intoxicating—heightening. I'm still shaking.

"I hear something," I pant, but the line is dead. He's not there.

Panic turns to a rushing thrill as the tent zipper peals open and Edward's wild head of hair pokes inside. His face turns to me and I can see a bloody scratch across his cheek and a smudge of dirt on his forehead. His eyes look wild in the low flashlight glow.

I flop onto my back. I can't take my hands away from myself, even though the ones I've been imagining are now grabbing my ankles through the bag. The clash of fantasy and reality makes me feel off balance. "What are you _doing_, Edward?"

He drops quickly to his knees, closing the tent flap behind him. Pulling his shirt over his head and crawling over the sleeping bag toward me, he says, "What we talked about just now ..." With a sure hand and _that _smile flooding his face, he pulls down the zipper of the sleeping bag. "... that's exactly what I'm doing. Again."


End file.
